


Coda

by siobhane



Series: Danse Macabre [6]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, F/F, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 12:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10217663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siobhane/pseuds/siobhane
Summary: In the aftermath of a mission gone wrong, there is only one place Xu can go.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irishais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishais/gifts), [SummonerLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummonerLuna/gifts).



_**Coda:** noun_

_Something that ends and completes something else._

~o~

Xu stands outside Quistis' door, unsure of how she got there. She's still in tactical dress – cargo pants, t-shirt, and her sidearm is still nestled in its holster against her ribs, but her boots and socks are missing.

She can't remember where she left them.

There is blood on her face, dried and clotted in her hair, her clothes are stiff with it.

It isn't hers.

She closes her eyes and tries not to think of the way Nida ignored her warning and stepped right into the path of an explosive round. She tries not to think of how he burst apart like a water balloon hurled against a sidewalk. She can't, won't picture it, but she can't _stop_.

The warm wetness of blood – _his blood_ \- all over her. The taste of it in her mouth. The smell.

One moment, Nida existed.

The next? Well, there wasn't enough left of him to bring home.

_\- he didn't even scream_

She won't think of the way her hands slid through what remained. She won't think of her determination to fix him, to save him, Nida, who was one of a handful of people she might have called a friend, and she won't think of how he was nothing more than a mess of shattered bone and guts and -

It was Dincht that dragged her away, kicking and screaming, he the sole witness to her total loss of control. Dincht, who shielded her from the shrapnel of the second blast, Dincht, who pinned her to the concrete and took more damage than he let on, and Dincht who locked her in the berth on the gunboat and held her hair while she dry-heaved, on her knees above a plastic bucket.

They will never speak of it. Dincht knows. He knows. They all do.

She chokes on the image as she lifts her hand and knocks on the door. It's a quarter to four in the morning, but she doesn't know where she left her boots and -

_-why didn't he listen?_

Quistis will understand.

Her face is soft from sleep, her eyes unfocused, but she takes Xu by the hand and leads her inside, to the bathroom and seats her on the edge of the tub.

She doesn't ask questions. Quistis has been here before, half a dozen times over the years, and each time it was Xu that she sought in the aftermath.

This is a first for Xu. Casualties don't usually rattle her, but then, she doesn't usually get a front row seat to the complete and utter evaporation of a friend.

Quistis runs the bath and scrubs away Nida's remains from Xu's face. Xu's insides are brittle, broken glass. She doesn't speak. She doesn't cry. She's a husk, she's empty, she's numb and Quistis helps peel away clothing stiff with dried blood and her fingertips brush against blackish fingerprint shaped bruises on her upper arms from Dincht's grip. She frowns at other, stranger marks Xu does not remember acquiring.

She bathes and washes th blood from her hair and her skin and the water turns orange-red. Nida, in the water, all around her. She can't stay in here with what is left of him, the evidence smelling of copper and death. She pulls the drain plug and starts fresh, and she scrubs, scrubs, _scrubs,_ until the last of him is washed down the drain.

Quistis offers a toothbrush, still wrapped in plastic – the kind Dr. Kadowaki gives the junior cadets - and she brushes twice to get the taste of him off her tongue.

_\- dincht's back, peppered with burns and bits of twisted metal, blood runs in rivers over his freckled skin, old scars shiny and puckered -_

Xu dries herself and accepts the clean t-shirt Quistis offers but declines the chamomile tea spiked with honey and whiskey to help her sleep. She's cold and she could use something to take the edge off, but her stomach is sour and her head pounds. It will only make her sick.

_\- a bit of arm there, a hip bone here, not enough to save, Nida, gone gone g -_

She shuts her eyes as Quistis turns off the light and climbs into bed. Xu's fingers twine through Quistis' hair, and she breathes in the scent of violets and whiskey as she accepts the embrace she so badly needs but can't ask for. She touches, caresses, and presses closer, and Quistis melts into her.

Xu knows she's taking advantage, that Quistis won't say no. She never does.

_\- hyne almighty, so much blood -_

Most days, Xu denies the existence of a higher power. But here, now, with Quistis' soft, plush lips pressed to her own, she could be persuaded to change her mind. If beauty has a taste, it's the whiskey on her tongue, the hint of honey on her lips.

She also questions whether or not love is real and not a some garbage pipe-dream social construct sold to the masses by greedy capitalists as jaded as she is, but this is the closest she ever gets. It's Quistis' racing heartbeat, her body, eager and pliant in Xu's hands, the breathy gasps that make her _believe_.

Her body aches and her bruises still smart, but the pain is inconsequential. Thirty seconds of pure, visceral ecstasy, her fingers claw the sheets and a trill of pleasure rings out in the silence.

This is the only good thing left in the world.

_-tributaries of blood, tweezers pluck the bits from his skin, a grimace, a grunt, more scars for his collection -_

She's exhausted in the wake of her release, and if she could drown herself in the silken strands of Quistis' hair, she would. If she could stay here, with the warmth of her skin against her own, she would never want anything or anyone else.

If Quistis ever said she wanted more, Xu, who guards her heart like a bank vault, would let down the perimeter defense and let her in.

_-bits of bone and cartilage and she tries to put him back together, kicks and screams and fights because there is nothing she can do -_

But Quistis will never ask that of her. And Xu will never say it out loud.

This violent life is too brutal and too short to expect more, and there are no promises she can keep.


End file.
